


Making Out

by Writing-The-Ghostbusters (writingfanfic)



Category: Ghostbusters (Movies 1984-1989), Ghostbusters - All Media Types
Genre: Cute, F/M, First Kiss, Fluff, Tooth-Rotting Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-01
Updated: 2018-06-01
Packaged: 2019-05-16 23:52:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 872
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14821268
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/writingfanfic/pseuds/Writing-The-Ghostbusters
Summary: For the prompt: 'A Story pretty please where Egon and reader are together but she's never been kissed before and she's super nervous maybe? Super fluff and kisses?'SMOOCHY SMOOCHY EGON





	Making Out

It’s Saturday night, and as the TV blares, you reason today could be going much worse. Here you are, curled up with your boyfriend, watching TV, on a Saturday night, no work tomorrow – you hope – and-

“This documentary is facetious and inflammatory.”

You roll your eyes, and nuzzle up into Egon’s ribs, and he strokes your back.

“Would you like to change the channel?”

“No, thanks,” you reply, and he kisses your hair; the feeling makes you giggle, and you put your arm over him, only to feel a second kiss. “Stop… whatevering my endorphins.”

“Actually, this is oxytocin. And I’m also lowering your cortisol levels. You know. Because our job might be stressful to some people.” You snort with laughter at the sardonic voice he uses. “Oxytocin is a hormone that bonds you to other people by stimulating the areas of your brain associated with addiction. So when people say ‘your love is my drug’, they are often, in a flippant way, correct.”

You look up at him, and he smiles at you.

“I just have to be more addicting than the other people you’ve kissed.”

“Well, fun fact there, actually.” You swallow a little, feeling nervousness, and he raises an eyebrow. He looks eerily like Mr. Spock. “I haven’t actually kissed anyone. Ever.”

He’s silent for a moment as the documentary grinds on behind you – he looks as if he’s thinking, but Egon always looks like he’s thinking. Even when he’s asleep, his dreams probably come in binary with little charts and footnotes, you think, adoringly, and then he speaks.

“That’s… statically very unlikely to have happened by accident.” He looks at you, and you blush.  _Egon’s own special way of saying you’re kissable_. “So… has anyone…”

“On the head, like… relatives. Friends. Etc. But… never the lips.” You shrug. “I mean… you of all people should know it means nothing-”

“Biologically, it’s very important. Kissing and mouth contact helps to foster closeness, as stated. And there’s some evidence it’s used to pass on germs in order to encourage herd immunity. But even if it doesn’t have merit from a particular scientific point of view, cultural and societal context means that it means a lot.” He smiles gently at you. “So for you to have saved it must be a very important thing. Psychologically, at least, it’s interesting.”

“I’m not shaming anyone who has kissed people.”

“Good. Because I didn’t feel ashamed anyway.” You smile, and he pulls you close. “Well… if you were to bestow this important first-kiss upon anybody, I wouldn’t mind if it was me.” You look up at him, and feel a strange feeling in your stomach, a kind of nervous-but-pleased anticipation as he deliberately fixes his eyes on the television. “Of course, that is your choice entirely.”

You nod, and then nonchalantly shuffle up onto your knees, gently pecking his cheek. He smiles, but doesn’t look at you. Next, you kiss his nose – you love that nose, it’s so elegant in profile, and his smile deepens.

Then, you close your eyes, and you swallow nervously, and you turn his head a little, and then you press your lips to his lips.

It’s nice. His lips are soft and plush – not wet or anything, but nicely-moisturised, as if he wears lip balm. It wouldn’t surprise you if he did, just out of practicality or something – and you find yourself enjoying it as he raises his hands to cradle your face gently. You’ve seen videos of people kissing – god, you sound like an idiot – but you’re pretty sure this is okay. Your heart is  _pounding_. You pull back, eyes wide, and you see pink on his cheeks as he smiles at you.

“W-was I okay? Did I do that okay?” you ask, and he nods.

“You didn’t drool on me or try to shove your tongue in my mouth, so you’re officially better than… statistically, 99% of first-time kissers, but don’t quote me on that figure.” You grin, and he strokes your hair through with his fingers. “They’re right. It is addicting. May I kiss you?”

You nod, and he presses his lips to yours, this time leaning you back. It feels as if you’re being dipped for a kiss, with his hands supporting you, except you are half-laying in his lap. You feel… you aren’t sure how you’re  _supposed_  to feel, something about a  _click_  and fireworks or something, but you feel as if your entire body is slowly tingling, and you begin to gently play with his fluffy hair as he holds you. It’s just growing long enough to start curling, you think dreamily, and then he pulls back.

“Sorry. I forgot you had to breathe. Are you capable of rhythmically breathing through your nose or am I squashing it?” he asks, anxiously, and you grin. You must look so dopey, but… wow. Your brain is sparkling. Blah. “Is that smile oxygen deprivation?”

“Nope. You make me happy,” you giggle, and he sighs, sounding a little relieved.

“Well, now we’ve discovered a new party trick, perhaps you would care to engage in watching a  _new_  documentary, and kissing. Making out, as I believe the slang terminology goes?” You giggle, flushing again, and he smiles. “Perfect.”


End file.
